


Meat

by inappropriatemetalfilth (inappropriatefangirlneeds)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Amputation, Cruelty, Humiliation, M/M, Ramsay is his own warning, Thramsay - Freeform, Torture, everything horrible, implied rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:02:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3864433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inappropriatefangirlneeds/pseuds/inappropriatemetalfilth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ramsay likes to look at his Reek especially at some parts of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meat

Meat. That was all he could see. Stinking meat.

The meat did not know what it was. Yet. It held it´s head high. It said a name.

A name that has long left his owner. It did not belong to him anymore. Meat had no name. At least not one like that.

He knew exactly what he would call his meat. Ramsay had already known that when his nostrils flared a few days after he had captured his prize. The wings of his nose got out of the way of this glorious smell. He had inhaled deeply. Stench. Not quite like the one he was used from his childhood when he had lived in the dirt. All that waste pooling in the gutter. Rotting. Not even a full day of heavy rain could eradicate it. It was not quite like that but it was no where near the smell of a highborn. Nowhere near the smell of that vain lord that was so concerned about his pretty clothing even when he should have been more concerned about the battle itself.

Pretty clothing was probably his last concern now. Meat did not wear clothing. The rag he had given him was almost too much. Covered way too much of this petty body. Ramsay tugged at the collar, his hand rested on his collarbone.

The meat turned it´s head away when Ramsay came close to get more of that smell into his nose. Fear and anguish both had their own stench and the meat in front of him already reeked both. Ramsay smirked, amused by his own little joke. He could swear that now he was almost as good as his bitches at picking up that special scents. It got worse every day. Each day a little more stench. Soon he would tell him. Tell him what he would be called from now on. Reek. Fitting for that foul stinking creature. Reek would say he had given him his name. It was true he, had made him what he was now.

Reek would know that soon enough.

It was only a matter of time until he fully smelled in a way which would leave no doubt about the adequacy of his name. Not long and his smell would be hardly distinguishable from the smell of the little parts of his. Usually he fed the dogs with those but this time he had kept them. Ramsay did not even know why but every time he had walked out of the kennels again without tossing those fingers among the dogs´ food. He was constantly turning the first finger in his hand. Twisting it. Squeezing. It had been so light and squishy. A little part of his meat. The second finger, he had not even put it out of his pocket. It was enough that he knew it was there when he left the kennels. Back up in his room he had looked for a little wooden box to put the finger in. Since then he kept those parts of his meat in there. Letting it putrefy. Slowly. Ramsay thought he could use it later. Threaten him with making him eat a part of it. Stick it into him. He probably would not want them back that way. Ramsay explained the fact that just the thought of that little box brought him so much joy with all those possibilities. Reek would never expect that he could be harmed by them even more. He thought he had endured everything bad that could happen involving those parts of his. Ramsay would prove him wrong and it filled him with glee when he pictured the moment. Even though his mood darkened every time he remembered that he would have to send that other part away. Maybe he would just put it into his box for one night. Just to have it there, be it only a short period of time. He had to give it away. There was no way avoiding this. This was why they were there in the first place. After all. No one could have guessed that it would turn out to be so much fun. Ramsay had always seen it as more than just a chore or a mere necessity but that this piece of meat would amuse him the way it did was not quite predictable. Probably he would carve something out of the teeth in the future. A new earring? He kept the teeth in another little box. Still stained with blood. Poor little thing had bled so much. Ramsay did not open this box as often as the other one. Every time he lifted the lid he was greeted by that familiar jet special stench. Rot. Decay. That such a small amount of meat could produce such a smell. Sweet but utterly appalling. Soon the rest of him would smell almost the same way. In his wooden box there was a piece of meat slowly falling into pieces and dissolving itself, on his wooden cross it was Theon that had fallen apart and soon would be gone. What was hanging there truly was barely more than mere meat. Soon he would spread the same malodorousness as those boxed pieces already did. Distinguishable only by the little detail that he in fact was not rotting. 

Ramsay was the the only reason he did not rot. He was the only thing that kept him alive. Kept his lungs breathing. His heart beating and his blood flowing through his veins. Or out of his veins with increased regularity but he would not drain enough to bleed him out. He was truly his meat. He was the one who brought the stench out of his abused body. The one who made him rot alive.

Soon he would understand that. He was his. His meat. Nothing else and he will not avert his gaze anymore. He soon will rather lean into his touch than turning his head away. He will understand that he deserves everything this hand will give him be it pain or tenderness. He would soon cherish both with equal enthusiasm. Ramsay longed for that moment when Reek would say his name out loud in earnest. He knew it would happen, it was only a matter of a few days. He was already proud of how far he had come but that moment would be special.

The moment when those lips would move and tell him that he was Reek. His words would be without any lie. Those dry, cracked lips would open and call him his lord. They would mean it. Soon.

His lips were still full but they showed the abuse. They had lost their color and probably have forgotten long ago how to curl upwards into a smile. Ramsay would teach him again some time probably. The bottom lip seemed to be a bit paler. It was quivering a little. Right there before his eyes. It looked so soft. Vulnerable. 

It was no more than meat. Everything that was before him. Ramsay pressed a thumb into it right above it´s collar bone. Mere meat. He could not let him forget that. Stinking, filthy meat. Disgusting and dirty. Nothing more. The thing before him was no more than flesh. Filthy flesh. Some Tendons and veins. A nasty mess of organs. Blood and pus. Slime, black and yellow gall. Sticky and abominable. A little rupture and fecal matter would spread into this mess. Scattering. Tainting everything. This was the whole truth about the thing before him. This was all it was made up of. Not everything could be seen from the outside though. One could guess about the fading muscle in this body but no one could see the greasy streaks of fat it was tainted with. Everything slapped onto some bones and held together by a few layers of skin. He had not bothered much about hearing that it were in fact different layers. As long as he could not peel them separately what use was this? He had flayed some of this skin. Broken open what held the foul mess that this body was together. Oh how he had screamed. Begged to be freed of some of this disgusting matter.

Now he was just whimpering. Trying to fight against the nausea he was causing. Tiny little whimpers. Even with them he could hear how sore his throat was from all the screaming earlier. Those tiny sounds were like music to his ears. The only music he could stand. Ramsay never understood the appeal of harps or singing. Trumpets and drums were instruments of war or other use to him. This whimpering however was something different. He almost liked it better than the screams. Almost. The screams affected the whole face, distorted all it´s features sometimes almost beyond recognition. With the whimpering there was just a little visible strain in those features and that bottom lip that still quivered. Even more now as it seemed.

Ramsay wanted to stop it. To probe it´s softness with his own lips. To sink his teeth into it. Bring back it´s former color a little. He wanted to lick the blood from it that would pool out of the broken skin. He could not do it. Not now. The last little bit of Theon left in this pile of filthy foul flesh could see it as a weakness. It probably was. At least at that point.

Ramsay had to wait. For the moment when his Reek knew he was his. Then he would claim him fully. He had already marked him. His body did leave no doubt about that but this would make it complete. Finish his work.

The first time he would ravish him. Ramsay knew there was no need to plan this. He would wreck him, he knew how to do that. Later however he would find a way to make him beg for this. For this and even more. 

This moment would finish his work but not end his fun after all.


End file.
